


Take the Fall

by bluebells



Series: the Front Line [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Heaven's Civil War, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week ago, Gabriel had been kicking Lucifer’s ankle under the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Synnerxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/gifts).



> Originally posted [at Livejournal](http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/37622.html).

  
Michael finds him sitting at the edge of Heaven after the battle, legs dangling from the cliff.

Gabriel’s still wearing his armour. His once pure white wings are thick with soot, dirt and darkening blood. Michael knows his look no better. At least the blood isn't theirs. Gabriel’s expression is far away, staring into the white-grey swirling murk of the space beyond Heaven as his wings twitch and beat with a half-hearted thump against his back.

They’re three days into the war.

A week ago, Gabriel had been kicking Lucifer’s ankle under the table.

He wasn’t ignorant enough to claim they hadn’t seen this coming, but Michael knows Gabriel didn’t believe Lucifer would follow through with his threats, though they were frequent and elaborate. This isn’t even the first time they’ve argued with messy, apocalyptic proportions as a family, but they’ve always cleaned up. The storm always broke, the sun came through and they reconciled.

Now they’re at war.

_War._

His wings beat again, growing still when Michael’s hand settles at the muscled joint of the arch.

Gabriel glances over his shoulder. His face is drawn and there’s a stiffness in his shoulders when he looks back at the murk that’s slowly forming into clouds. He looks like a stranger without his smile.

Michael hates Lucifer for that.

“You fought well today.” Michael gently squeezes Gabriel’s wing before he stops himself. His fingers trail through the upper layer of feathers and come away with a wetness thick enough to be mud.

He hears Gabriel swallow.

"There's blood in my feathers,” Gabriel says, quietly.

Michael rubs the gunk between his fingers, disintegrating it to less than matter with a thought.

Gabriel snorts a chuckle.

“There’s blood in my feathers,” His voice slightly shakes this time, like he can barely believe it and Michael moves out of the way when Gabriel’s wings beat again.

Gabriel twists around when Michael catches one of his wings in hand.

“Gabriel,” Michael kneels behind him, running his hand from the shoulder joint to the arch and back, “Be still. I’ll—“

Gabriel’s wing jerks roughly out of his hand.

“Look at us! Look at you!” Gabriel snaps.

Michael glances down at himself, there’s a thin layer of sooty grime over his once-white clothes and armour, but his shoulder piece is missing. Gabriel’s fingers swipe at his brow and come away dark with blood.

“You’re too good at this, Michael,” Gabriel says, that tremor back in his voice, though he still sounds angry.

It’s no secret, Michael was born for this. It’s what he’s best at, but that doesn’t mean Gabriel’s words don’t make his chest tighten.

Michael catches his hand, wiping the blood away with a single pass and reaches again for Gabriel’s closest wing.

“Let me—“

“I saw him today, between the sixth valleys,” Gabriel interrupts him and Michael’s hand hovers in mid-air, “I caught him. He didn’t even see me coming.”

Gabriel grins, it’s completely humourless. Michael’s grace churns at the sick, bitter regret rolling off him.

“What did you do?”

Because the last Michael had heard, Lucifer was still alive….

“Almost broke my trumpet over his head.”

Michael’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“Your horn was fashioned for the end of days –“

“Maybe you should have it,” Gabriel says and Michael has no idea where Gabriel’s going with this. It’s starting to worry him.

“Gabriel, I’m the sword. You’re _His_ voice, you should have….” Michael hesitates, because Gabriel’s scowling now, the tendons in his neck cording with tension, “When Father gives you the chance to strike, you have to take it.”

Gabriel is staring ahead again, but he doesn’t pull away when Michael’s hand resettles on his wing and begins the slow work of grooming the filth from between his feathers.

“I have to,” His brother echoes and Michael doesn’t give enough thought to that strange, thick emotion in his voice.

Michael pauses his work when Gabriel looks back at him, face lined with hesitation and regret.

“Will you forgive me?”

At the time, Michael’s relieved that Gabriel’s come back to his side and his will is still in the fight. He believes Gabriel is seeking absolution for not fulfilling their Father’s edict and he’s grateful no one will ever have to know of the day’s transgression.

Michael’s fingers sink through blood and ash of Gabriel’s feathers when he leans in. Gabriel opens under his kiss and Michael pulls him closer, grace singing with thanks and relief.

A week later, Gabriel is gone.  



End file.
